Society: the adventures of a gatecrasher

There is a strong likelihood that Mrs Umuhoza Linda, has never set eyes on me. Still, it’s fitting that I offer her an apology. Madam, this is actually about your colourful wedding of 2006 or thereabouts. To be frank, I didn’t quite attend the wedding. In fact, I was just minding my own business and leafing through old newspapers in my house when my cousin knocked on my door. “You are just sitting in the house? Come on, there is a wedding reception somewhere in Kimironko. There will be beer. Tugende!” Being as Rwandan as the next guy, I jumped into his old Carina and we sped off to your residence. I must confess at this point that I didn’t have the foggiest idea whose party I was gate-crashing. Now, if I didn’t cheer with the rest when your heartthrob waltzed you through the first dance, it’s because I was busy dusting off one Amstel after another. And just when supplies seemed to be diminishing, providence arrived in the form of a huge slap on my back and a loud, gregarious “Dedan!” I know he didn’t mean it to hurt, but that kid brother of yours who used to play volleyball is as strong as an ox. That slap (he was merely patting my back) was actually very gentle and I should know because I saw him spike the hell out of volleyballs when we were kids in high school. Having therefore been joyfully reunited with my old pal and schoolmate, who just happened to be your kid brother, I had the keys to the store. We must have done quite a bit of damage because by the time we piled back into my cousin’s old Carina in the wee hours of the morning, we were looking a bit under the weather. To this day, I still wonder how we managed to drive all the way to Nyamirambo without hugging the trees along the highway. I know that you’ve probably wondered how that mysterious dent in your food and drinks budget occurred. Now you know! Of course I was in no shape to offer my congratulations then, but as they say, better late than never. This incidence reminded me of another time, many years earlier, when your father threw an impromptu party for an entire school bus of students. We were coming from some sports meeting in Rwamagana when your brother requested the Games Master to allow him stop for a moment and greet his father (the real reason, of course, was to squeeze pocket money out of the old man). The old man on his part almost ate him alive for “leaving guests at the gate”. We were therefore taken aback when he came back and said, “Papa aravuze mwinjire!” (“Dad, says, ‘come in.’”) A goat lost its life and your mum’s maize granary was severely injured. Soda arrived by the crate, too, and I suspect that all of us, now in our late 20s, still remember belching all the way to School. Anyway, old habits die hard. Should you, therefore, deem it fit to renew your vows and there is a drastic dent in your food and liquor budget, you know who to attribute it to. dedantos2002@yahoo.com